Say Something
by Creative Touch
Summary: Hermione Granger. Wasn't she meant to be Ron's girlfriend or something? Weren't they meant to have the fairy-tale ending? She was surely more a sister than a lover, right? That's what Fred Weasley thought before realising five years of his life were erased from his memory – five years of his life that was spent with her. Rated M for the brief smut that may entail in future. R&R :)
1. Chapter 1: Granger

**Disclaimer: **I am definitely not J.K. Rowling. If I were, Fremione would be worth so much more to the world than it is now.

**Summary: **Hermione Granger. Wasn't she meant to be Ron's girlfriend or something? Weren't they meant to have the fairy-tale ending? She was surely more a sister than a lover, right? That's what Fred Weasley thought before realising five years of his life were erased from his memory – five years of his life that was spent with her.

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_**Say something, I'm giving up on you**_

_I'll be the one, if you want me to_

_**Anywhere I would've followed you**_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

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*** SAY SOMETHING ***

**CHAPTER ONE:  
"GRANGER"**

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_Yells and shouts and the unmistakeable noises of duelling filled the corridor. Fred backed into the hallway with Percy, both of then duelling masked and hooded men. In the corner of his eye, he could see Harry, Ron and Hermione run towards them to help: jets of light flew in every direction and the man duelling Percy backed off, fast: then his hood slipped and then they saw a high forehead and streaked hair._

"_Hello Minister!" bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand, and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"_

"_You're joking Perce!" shouted Fred, as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some kind of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee. "You are actually are joking ... I don't think I have heard you joke since you were-"_

_The air exploded. _

_They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet, one stunned, the other transfigured: in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart. _

_Fred felt every bone in his body break under a large amount of pressure. Pieces of debris were falling on top of him in such a rapid pace, he could barely think before his whole world was crushed into darkness. He felt his lungs struggle to find the air, and his heart pound in fear. As a piece of wall collided with his head, he felt the wound immediately begin to gush with blood, but before he could react to the pain, another chunk of concrete hit him and that was enough for his eyes to roll back into his head. _

_Just before he surrendered to the darkness, he could hear Percy's voice as a pair of hands gripped his shoulders. "No! Fred! No! Fred! Fr-" _

"Fred is in the bloody hospital, _again!_"

That wasn't Percy's voice. That sounded like a girl's voice. A familiar voice, but a girl's voice nonetheless. And unless Percy's voice suddenly changed dramatically in an instant, that was unmistakably a girl's voice.

"Calm down, will you?"

Now, _there _was a voice Fred could recognise without a moment's hesitation. He would know George's voice anywhere, even when he had no sight, like this moment for instance. Even now as he struggled to open his eyes, he knew it was his other half. He inwardly smiled as the sensation of relief washed over him. At least he knew his twin was safe.

"I swear, George, this is the last time. One of these days, you're going to kill one of you, and then what's going to happen?"

"Merlin, Hermione, I said I was sorry! I didn't think that the damn thing was going to explode!"

So it was Hermione Granger whom his twin brother was having an argument with. Fred couldn't help but be slightly amused by this, but also a little confused. By the sounds of her frustrated tone, she had seemed to present some genuine concern for his wellbeing. And that was particularly odd, given that she was his little brother's best friend, and they had barely spoken two words to each other within the last year.

"Of course you didn't!" came her reply. "You don't think about anything besides that damn joke shop!"

Of course, the joke shop. Their home, their dream, their passion. They lived for that joke shop. They had poured their hearts and souls for years into their beloved joke shop. It didn't surprise Fred in the slightest that George would be putting their joke shop above all else. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was everything to them at this point. But what did that have to do with anything?

"Hey, you've known for years that this is what we do. It was one little accident!"

"A _little _accident?! He could've died, George! You could've blown his _fucking _head off."

Wow, Fred had never heard Hermione Granger swear before. He smirked to himself, he'd never would've picked her to be the type to curse. Even with the constant threats of writing back home to their mother, he never thought one of them would push her so far that she'd curse at them. Perhaps he had underestimated the innocent bookworm.

"Hermione, you need to calm down. The healers said he'll be alright when he wakes up-"

"And they said that he's lucky to be alive! That's it, George! I've had it up to here with you and your bloody pranks."

"Perhaps you should talk to Fred about this when he wakes up. I don't think he's going to agree with you."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll make him see it my way."

What on earth did she mean by that? Was she going to threaten him with a letter to their mother? Because that wasn't going to do anything. They weren't even living at the Burrow any more, that threat had lost all its appeal. Well… maybe not completely. Their mother would still find them even if they fled to Bulgaria.

His eyes finally allowed themselves to open, and he saw a world that was far too blurry. He blinked a few times to try and clear the cloudiness in his vision. His head was painfully pounding, probably a result from the crushing of debris. He winced as a sharp pain pierced his mind, causing him to close his again to brace it. Once the wave of pain subsided, he allowed his eyes to open again.

He took in the space around him. From the way his hospital bed was set up, he could see two people at the foot of the bed arguing with each other. Even before his vision cleared up, he knew exactly who they were based on the conversation he was listening to earlier. Hermione seemed all about two seconds away from whipping out her wand and casting a jinx down George's throat. George seemed to be as equally frustrated with her, except his style would've required a huge prank and whatever was left of Hermione's dignity.

George ran a hand through his hair. "Don't you think you're being a little unreasonable, Hermione? Don't you think that-?"

"Fred!" Hermione squeaked, noticing his awake state. Her anger quickly melted away as her eyes met his. Even George's armour began to crack and he gave a sigh of relief as he noticed his twin's consciousness.

Hermione was the first to move, rushing over and throwing her arms around him. "Oh my Lord, I was so worried."

"I can see that," he croaked, wrinkling his nose as her bushy hair tickled it. She pulled back and gave him a beaming smile. "It's nice to see you too."

"Stop it," she teased, giving him a kiss on his nose. Fred blinked at her in surprise. That was a new development.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione. Let the man breathe," George's voice came from his right. Fred turned his head to see his brother grinning widely at him, before also enveloping him in a hug. "You gave us a right good scare there, mate."

Fred's hand reached up to his pounding head, only to find it heavily wrapped in gauze. Maybe that brick hit him harder than he realised. The quick sting returned and he winced again, causing the two of them to react. He dismissed them both with a wave of his other hand.

"Should I grab a healer?" George asked him.

"No, it's alright," Fred answered with a sigh, as the pain subsided again. He looked over to his twin and noticed that his hair had grown out a little, obviously in an effort to cover the gaping dark hole that he had instead of an ear. When did he manage to do that? He said the hole didn't bother him, but surely there wasn't enough time for him to have grown out his hair this quickly. He frowned as he examined his brother again, and noticed that he seemed to be uninjured from the war. Not a scratch or bruise on him, and for that he was thankful. In fact, he looked as if he were in perfect health.

His gaze shifted to the bushy-haired witch standing on his other side.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, he noticed that Hermione looked a little older. She was no longer a kid, but now a full-grown woman, standing before him. Merlin, the war must've changed her. She grew up in so many more ways that he could've imagined, and honestly, it had shown a little in her mature stance. She, too, seemed to be at the peak of her health. Any horrors from the war were not present in her exterior. Her brown eyes regarded him warmly, a bright smile on her face as she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He stared at her in confusion, feeling a bit uncomfortable about her small hand wrapped around his.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" she asked, her head tilting questioningly.

"Aside from the headache, I feel fine," he admitted with a frown. "A bit drowsy maybe."

"That'd be the pain potions," George supplied from his other side. "Honestly, I wasn't excepting you to wake up this soon. Normally you're out for a few more hours when they give you them."

Fred looked to his brother in confusion. This is not the first time he'd been injured, but he hadn't been knocked out completely since he took a bludger to the head in his second year. Surely George didn't remember how long he was unconscious for when they were twelve, he sure as hell didn't.

The hand wrapped around his gave another small squeeze, and Fred suddenly found himself staring into chocolate coloured eyes.

"Do you need me to fetch you some water?" her soft voice asked.

Suddenly, Fred became aware of how thirsty he actually was. He didn't even have a chance to respond before Hermione's hand let go of his to reach for the jug of water that was sitting on the bedside table. After pouring him a glass, she brought the glass to his lips and began to let the cool water slip into his mouth. He was not prepared for her to be bringing water to him in such a fashion, and as a result of his surprise, he choked and spluttered the water. Hermione withdrew instantly, obviously alarmed.

"Oh Fred," she said. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Fred managed to choke out, as George gave him a good thump on his back. "Thanks anyways."

His mind tingled underneath the bandage, Fred began to wonder how deep the wound really was. He stretched out his jaw, feeling it cramp slightly, most likely another result of the falling wall. He stared down at his body, and noticed that they remained intact. That was a definite bonus. He was sure that wall had crushed bones, as well as his lungs and head, but he felt fortunate that his splitting headache was the only evident problem with him.

Hermione put the glass back on the bedside table. Her hand found its way to Fred's once again, and he frowned at the touch.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

"Me? I'm fine. You just stress me out sometimes. I'm surprised you two haven't caused me to go prematurely grey."

"I doubt that," George interjected. "You're still as lovely as ever, Hermione dear."

"Suck up," she playfully returned, poking her tongue out at him, clearly over their earlier argument.

Fred looked from one to the other. There was something going on between them that he was not aware of. Had they struck up a romance of sorts? No. That was ludicrous even to think of. George was mad for Katie, even if she didn't quite see eye-to-eye on everything with him. Besides, Hermione wasn't George's type. She was better suited for someone more intellectual. Mentally-stimulating. Though, perhaps he was overthinking that because he knew his baby brother had a crush on the bushy-haired bookworm. No, that wouldn't work either, despite Ron's efforts. They would be at each other's throats day and night, and Hermione would've been bored, that was for sure.

"Where's mum and dad?" Fred asked, interrupting the eye contact between George and Hermione.

George spoke up. "Err... I sent them home. Once you were given the all clear, I figured they didn't have to sit around and wait all over again." There was that word. _Again_. Like that this was all routine. Perhaps it was. Given the amount of people at the battle, let alone the amount of Weasleys there were, it could've gotten all too familiar for everyone else.

Fred turned his attention to Hermione. "So… what's new, Granger?"

Hermione blinked at him in surprise, the smile disappearing from her face. There was a moment's pause and Fred could see the cogs working in her head. She gave him a look that was crossed between surprise and confusion. "What did you just call me?"

He felt George stiffen beside him. He turned his head to see that his brother was looking at him with the same look as Hermione's.

"Your name?" Fred responded in confusion. She stared at him for a moment, and then frowned, before exchanging a worrying look with George.

"Granger?" George echoed, his eyes returning back to meet Fred's. "You haven't called Hermione, "Granger", in years. Are you sure you're alright, mate?"

Years? What on earth was he on about? Sure, he hadn't seen the bushy haired witch in a while, but _years?_ How long was he asleep for?

"I'm going to get the healer," Hermione told them both, a profound frown on her lips. George nodded in her direction, and the two redheads watched her leave the room mumbling something incoherent under her breath.

George's gaze turned back to the twin in the hospital bed. "Granger?" he repeated again.

Fred frowned at his brother. "What's wrong with calling her "Granger"? We called her that almost our entire years at Hogwarts."

"That was Hogwarts though, when we were young and… well, idiots."

"We're still young, George," Fred admonished. They were only twenty after all, hardly an age of real maturity.

"Yes but… why?" George stared at him, searching his face for something. "Why are you calling Hermione, "Granger"?"

"Why are you so insistent on calling her "Hermione"?"

George's eyes widened for a moment. "What's wrong with you?"

"What in Merlin's pants are you on about?"

The door suddenly swung open, and a young healer dressed in green robes entered the room with a worrying Hermione hot on his heels. The healer approached the hospital bed that Fred was lying on and grabbed the clipboard that was attached to the end of the bed. Fred saw George take a few steps back to give the healer some room and then whisper something in Hermione's ear behind his head, which caused her to gape at him in surprise.

Before Fred could open his mouth to ask what was said, the healer cleared his throat.

"Mr. Weasley," the healer said causally, his eyes never leaving the clipboard he was holding. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Fred answered.

"No pain?"

Fred shook his head. The healer conjured up a quill out of thin air and began scribbling notes down on the clipboard.

"Any nausea?"

Again, Fred shook his head.

"Headaches?"

"Just a small one," Fred admitted. "But I guess that's not too bad given that a wall fell on me."

The healer stopped writing, and his head shot up from his notes. "A wall?" Suddenly the healer was looking as worried as Hermione and George, and Fred had a feeling that there was something more wrong with him than just a heavily sore head.

"Yes, a wall. There was a blast, and a wall collapsed on top of me. I couldn't get out of the way fast enough, that's why I'm here, right?"

The healer put down the clipboard and pulled out his wand without saying a word. He immediately began waving his wand in several different jerking motions, running several different diagnostic spells over him. Fred watched him in confusion, unsure whether or not he should be concerned, but the thick tension he felt from the people in the room suggested that he should be concerned.

"Mr. Weasley," the healer's voice penetrated his musings. "Could you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Fred's face scrunched up in concentration. "I was… standing in a corridor… at Hogwarts… and we, that is, Percy and I, were battling Death Eaters. And then there was a blast, and the wall just collapsed, and I guess I was caught under it." There was a gasp and Fred suddenly became aware that all three of them were watching him with intense looks. Hermione had both of her hands covering her mouth, most likely to suppress any more gasps that may come out. George was staring at him with wide blue eyes, suddenly looking ghostly pale underneath his freckles. The healer was still waving his wand over Fred's body, muttering spells under his breath, with a look of determination on his face.

"I believe Mr. Weasley has suffered some memory loss," the healer addressed the pair standing at the end of Fred's bed. "To what extent, I'm not sure, but we'll run some tests and keep you informed."

Memory loss? How on earth would he know if he had some memory loss? He remembered that corridor so vividly, it can't have been long ago.

"Mr Weasley," the healer spoke to him. "Do try and get some rest. I'll send someone to give you a potion for the headache." And with that, he collected the clipboard once again and left the room. The remaining occupants of the room stared at him with attentiveness. Hermione nudged George and whispered something inaudible in his one ear. George in turn began to whisper something furiously back, only he had not been as quiet as Hermione and Fred managed to pick up the words "we don't know that yet."

Fred was on the verge of asking them what the problem was when George cleared his throat.

"Fred…" George said cautiously. "What year is it?"

"It's 1998. The month of May, if I recall correctly." Hermione's face crumpled up the moment he said the year, and he didn't pretend that he didn't hear George's slight hitch in breath. "What? Was that not right?"

"Fred," George said, twisting his hands nervously. "It's 2003."

"2003?" Fred repeated incredulously.

He thought hard about what was being said. It couldn't be 2003, it couldn't be five years into the future. There's no way that could've happened. He wracked his brain for the any indication of a memory past the battle, but it still was the last thing he remembered before waking up in St. Mungo's to George and Hermione's bickering. Fred couldn't believe that there could've been a large chunk of his memory gone from existence... unless…

"Oh I get it now," Fred said, chuckling a little. "Nice try, George. You had me for a second there. And kudos to you, Hermione. Would've never picked you to volunteer for a prank like this."

Neither of the two laughed, but instead stared at him with concern and worry. "This isn't a prank, Forge," George said grimly. "It's not 1998. It's 2003."

George's face was deadpanned as he repeated his words slowly. Fred's eyes widened with horror as he realised that his twin was actually serious. 2003? That was five years of his life, just gone in an instant. What had happened? What had changed? Had they even won the war? Did he and George still live together? Was he and Angelina still in a relationship? There were so many questions to be answered, but the main one that sprung to Fred's mind was…

"How can it be 2003?" Fred said with a frown. "We were just battling at Hogwarts… wait, are you telling me that I've been asleep for five years?"

"Oh my Lord," Hermione muttered, putting her hand over her mouth and looking very close to tears.

"Hermione…" George's voice wavered, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder but she just shrugged it off. "Hermione, please…"

She slinked away from his touch when he tried to console her again. Tears began spilling from her eyes, as she cried, "Leave me alone, George!" before turning on her heel and running out of the room. George watched her leave anxiously, and let out a loud sigh. Fred glanced at his twin curiously, unable to comprehend why his brother was so concerned over Hermione. George looked like he was close to tears too as he tore his gaze away from the door that Hermione had just disappeared through.

"What's got her wand in a knot?" Fred asked his twin.

George's head whipped around so fast to give Fred a murderous glare. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"What?" Fred raised his hands uselessly. He thought about the playfulness they had briefly, how comfortable they were around each other. Perhaps… "Are you in love with her?"

George stared at him wide-eyed. "Merlin, of course not. I mean...I love her, I'm not _in _love with her."

"Then what? Am I supposed to understand that Hermione and I are somewhat friends now?"

George tilted his head to the skies and let out a low, hollow laugh. He took a deep breath and shook his head at the younger twin.

"Fred, she's your wife."

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**A/N: **_So this was only a rough start to the story. I wasn't planning on it actually happening, but I don't know… once I started, I felt obligated to continue. _

_I promise, chapters in the future will be better and a tad bit longer. I'm not thrilled with the length, but I didn't know how to stretch it out any more than it was. I guess it's not too bad for a starter… right? Right? _

_Anyways, I'm not sure how this story idea came about, but I kind of like that it's Fred who loses his memory, compared to Hermione, since it is normally the female main who can't recall, especially in these types of stories. I think that's what kept me with it. I have some interesting memories to nudge Fred in the right direction, but nothing is set in stone yet. But I'm sure that will change with time._

_So how do you all think of it? I know, I know… I should be updating _Broken_ but you now know why I haven't yet. Don't worry, I haven't given up on it. I'm going to dare to write the both at the same time. Wish me luck with that one. _

_So send me love and reviews. Flames if it does suck, but be nice about it. _

_Infinite X's and O's,  
Creative Touch  
xxx_


	2. Chapter 2: What's Left Behind

**A/N: **A massive shout out to _**A**__**taraxie **_for all the encouragement through countless reviews, and for even pushing me to update by reviewing on the first chapter twice. I can't express the love I feel from that act. Thank you so much for your support.

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*** SAY SOMETHING ***

**CHAPTER TWO:  
WHAT'S LEFT BEHIND**

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As the days went on, Fred began to understand where he stood five years from the battle.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes still remained a success, which he was more than happy to hear. They had even expanded the store to Hogsmeade, and were even considering going international, according to George. That was an impressive feat from what Fred could recall. He remembered their fears of opening up the store in the first place, fear of a lack of success, fear that nobody would appreciate their products the same way they did. Now, they were moving up in the world.

Their business had attracted a lot of attention in recent years, and as result, they had gathered some fame, though Fred had a feeling that being associated with Harry Potter may have had a hand in things.

Both Fred and George had moved out the loft above the store, and were now living separately for the first time in their lives. Though he had been told that George moved out three years ago. They still had the loft, but it now served as a crash pad for whenever one of them needed some space, or rather, got in trouble with their wives and needed to give her space to cool down.

George apparently was the first to move out, and had since gotten married to Katie. Fred expressed his congratulations, even if had already done so a few years prior. George seemed happier than Fred ever recalled him being, and that soothed his aching mind. It was a refreshing change of pace from the secretly terrified George that he had gotten so accustomed to during the war. He could remember the nights they watched from the darkness of the loft as Death Eaters destroyed a different shop in the cloak of night, fearing for the day they would end up on their doorstep. It was a surreal experience being taken out of that world and into one that was peaceful in comparison.

All in all, he seemed to be doing well. Minor fame, huge business success, still charming and incredibly good-looking…

Oh, and of course, he had married Hermione Granger.

Fred frowned every time he thought about it. It wasn't that he was disappointed, as far as surprise wives goes, he could've done a lot worse for himself. He just didn't understand how it happened. Fred wracked his brain and heart for an answer, and was felt a little disheartened when he realised he harboured no secret feelings for the bushy-haired witch. He wanted to find some glimmer of hope, just for her sake. She had seemed so downtrodden by his diagnosis, he felt incredibly guilty that his memory loss caused her so much grief.

In the days that quickly passed, the majority of the ever-growing Weasley clan had come and visited. His brothers and sister had seemed to be well informed of his current condition, and had tried to keep him in the loop of what had happened in their lives. Five years was a lot for him to catch up on, and attempting to keep up proved to be more challenging than studying for his O. . Fred kept getting lost in the conversation, unable to keep track of all the new information he suddenly had to absorb.

His mother and father were the first to visit the very next day after he woke. Molly had fussed over him like he was six years old again and had fallen out of their treehouse. She had come laden with food, claiming that hospital food was atrocious. He had not disagreed with her, and helped himself to containers of food she had brought with her, eating as if he had been starved for years. Molly had approved of his hearty appetite with a smile, completely avoiding the memory loss issue at hand. Arthur, to avoid his wife's criticism, had also avoided the issue by distracting him with mere muggle objects that Fred politely pretended to be interested in.

Charlie had apparently come back home immediately after receiving owl that his baby brother had lost a fifth of his memories. He still seemed the same rugged, tough, older brother that Fred had always known, except with a few extra scars here and there, which their mother spent most of the visit complaining about. Charlie and Fred hid their smirks as their mother quizzed the elder Weasley on a relationship with a girl, whom Fred was later told was merely a friend willing to stand in.

Percy came in the day afterwards, wide-eyed and carrying a large stack of books about memory loss. Fred had originally thought Hermione had a hand in that, but she had seemed as shocked as him when he began to empty his pockets of various herbs and seeds that apparently help rejuvenate memories. Fred rolled his eyes when all of these ingredients were put in front of him. Apparently, Percy was still barmy as ever. So much for the joking Percy that he recalled from the battle.

Bill and Fleur had visited later that day, bringing with them the two nieces Fred didn't even know he had. Before his eyes saw the two strawberry-blonde girls, Fred hadn't even considered how children fit in this weird situation. As Bill introduced his daughters, Fred found himself wondering how many more secret nieces and nephews he still had to meet. Victoire had stared at him with huge sparkling blue eyes, which almost stunned Fred in his hospital bed. Dominique had been a temperamental toddler, and had protested loudly to anybody but Fleur holding her, to which Bill insisted was just a phase. Victoire seemed to regarding Fred as much as he was to her. Fred always donned himself rather aptitude with children, and tried to kill any awkwardness by addressing the little girl first.

"So how old are you?" Fred asked the oldest of his nieces.

Victoire held up four fingers.

"You're four."

"She's three," Bill said.

"And evidently a liar," Fred accused playfully.

"That she learnt from you. You and George are a bad influence on my daughters." Fred had to laugh at the truth in that. He and George had always said they'd be the favourite uncles to all their future nephews and nieces, never being one to scold or tell their parents in what sort of trouble they'd be up to. They'd be the uncles who taught them how to play pranks, to lie between their teeth, and when they were older; be the ones they felt safe telling them about their complicated social lives and how to talk to the opposite sex.

The way that Victoire stared at him, Fred knew that he and George were well on their way to making that happen.

Ginny was the last to visit, apparently no longer a Weasley but a Potter instead. This hadn't surprised Fred in the slightest, knowing the kind of relationship the two were destined for, but that didn't stop him from staring down Harry as he greeted him. What had surprised him was the eight month old, dark haired baby boy that she carried on her hip, and introduced to him as her infant son. Fred had to take a moment to remember that she wasn't the sixteen year old girl he remembered her as, but was instead, a twenty-one year old who was more than capable of raising a family of her own.

Young James Potter was placed in his arms before he had a moment to realise what his sister was doing. It surprised him what his hands could remember when his mind couldn't. He hadn't held a baby since Ginny was born, and even then he was only four years old, and had pestered his mother about it for months on end. Now here he was, holding her baby, and the sentimental value of it was not lost on him at all.

Little James didn't seem to fuss as Fred shuffle him awkwardly in his arms, which gave Fred the idea that perhaps he wasn't doing it wrong, or perhaps the youngest Potter was aware that Fred was a little stressed out from holding him. However, that didn't stop him from trying to pull apart the thick bandage that was still wrapped around his head with his chubby hands, despite the protest of his parents. Fred laughed at the mischief his nephew was already attempting at a young age, and wondered what kind of tricks of the trade he would later pass onto his nephew when he was eleven.

Ginny even let Fred feed James his bottle when he begun to fuss. It wasn't rocket science, but he was glad that James was willing to work with him and happily took the bottle that was being offered by Fred. Ginny had explained how the war went down, and how Harry had finished Voldy at dawn, all of which seemed to bore Harry, who had clearly heard it all one too many times before. She continued to narrate every moment of her life in the last five years until they were ushered out at the end of visiting hours, and from what Fred could understand, he wasn't even close to hearing the end of Ginny's adventurous life with Harry – not that he wanted to hear that much about it in the first place.

Each one of his siblings had attempted to jerk his memory into the present, with countless stories and retellings. Much to everyone's dismay, nothing seemed to be working. The memory of the corridor to the moment of awakening was seamless. It was as if his mind didn't skip a beat. It was one thing to be told all these things, it was another to be able to recall it for real. And as useful as all the information as, it didn't stop him from feeling completely useless.

The hardest part always came at the end of the visits.

When George was there, he knew how to keep the mood light and entertaining. George filled him in on the shop, and their products, keeping Fred engaged in the conversation, to distract him from the fact that he had suddenly woken up five years into the future. The two often resorted to childish horseplay, which normally resulted in them being told to be quiet by more than one healer. It was fun, it was amusing, and it was everything Fred needed after a long day of people poking around in his mind.

But eventually, the hours grew long, and George would have to leave him to go home to his wife. That then only left Fred and Hermione sitting in the room. Alone.

They hadn't spoken a word to each other since George informed him that they were married, despite having her present for all his family visits, and her staying in his room every night. She had given him space to digest all the new information he was given, but at the same time, he knew that she was there, hoping that in a second that he remembered the life they had shared together. Honestly, Fred wished for it too.

It was too awkward for him to say anything to her – after all, what do you say to your supposed wife?

There were so many questions left unanswered. He didn't want to bring it up with any of his family, not even George. He was almost afraid of what they would tell him. But even more, he was afraid that he was a lousy husband, or worse, that he robbed her of the chance to find true love. Despite wanting to know more of everything that had occurred in the past five years, he didn't want to know about his marriage to Hermione. It was the hippogriff in the room, the hippogriff that he was really trying to pretend he didn't notice.

As much as he tried, sitting in the room alone with Hermione didn't help him avoid the plaguing thoughts. How did they even end up together? What had happened between him and Angelina? Heck, what happened between Hermione and Ron? Weren't they meant to be childhood sweethearts or something? Where did he fit into this weird little picture? Did they even talk? Was he alright with this? He couldn't even ask Ron, everyone had informed him that Ron was out on an Auror mission and wouldn't be back until sometime later that month.

He had been assessed by five different healers over the three days that passed since he woke up. Physically he was fine, it was just his mind that seemed to be broken. As much as he tried, he couldn't remember anything after the wall collapsed at Hogwarts. He strongly wished that there had been more progress with memory loss in the medical field in the last five years, but a brief run in with Lockhart was enough to let him know that not a lot was new.

Fred was sitting cross-legged on his hospital bed with open photo albums in front of him. The healers had suggested that looking at some old photographs may stimulate his memory, and Hermione had not hesitated in bringing over a large collection of them. After each day he begun flicking through the photo albums that were well organised in the correct time sequence of day, month and year. That had to be Hermione's doing. He wouldn't have paid that much attention to detail as he was sure she would be.

The photographs didn't do much but just remind him of a life he couldn't remember. He began to wonder if his memory would ever return. It was all up in the air at this point. The healers couldn't determine how severe his memory loss was, whether or not he would ever get back the five years he had lost. It was like looking at someone else's life through photographs. He couldn't remember being there, he didn't feel like he was ever there in these moments that were now lost in time. He couldn't remember being the man in the photographs, and he definitely couldn't remember being the man who was crazy in love with Hermione Granger.

He peered over to the chair that Hermione had slowly turned into her permanent residence. She had her feet tucked underneath a thick knitted blanket, appropriate given the cold December weather, and her nose buried in a book. She never uttered a word to him, nor he to her. They sat in silence, him flicking through photographs, her reading a new book every day. Fred wasn't even sure how she was functioning. By the time he woke in the morning, she was already showered and dressed, as if she had darted home whilst he slept. As much as he tried to resist sleep, he could never manage to stay awake longer than her, and he had yet to see her close her eyes and slumber. He never saw her eat anything, but she'd occasionally leave the room and return minutes later with a cup of tea. Fred was beginning to believe that she lived solely on a diet of chamomile tea, and no sleep.

Watching her read sent an unnatural shiver up Fred's spine, that he pulled his thick dressing robe tighter around his chest. Hermione seemed oblivious to him watching her, as she flipped the page and let her eyes roam across the words. He felt uneasy as he shivered once again and turned his gaze away from her. He tried to focus on other things in the room, but there wasn't much to look at in a hospital room, aside from bland boring paintings of flowers and plain white walls. Somehow his eyes fell upon an item that he had placed beside him earlier that day.

The healers had earlier returned to him his apparent wedding ring, which they had to remove as per protocol when he was admitted. He had thanked them but immediately placed it on the bedside table, and tried to forget it existed. But it did exist, and it seemed to be begging him to put it on.

Fred glanced back at Hermione, thankful she hadn't noticed him staring at the ring. He hesitantly edged closer towards it before letting his fingers wrap around the cool metal. He gingerly picked it up and examined it closely. If it wasn't for this ring, he wouldn't have believed he was married. Well, the ring and the wedding photo album he just happened to also be glancing at.

The photographs seemed to almost mock his condition. They looked so happy. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he looked at Hermione wearing a flowing white gown, looking more dazzling than he could ever recall. They were dancing, and laughing, and being… well… in love. It was so weird seeing the love in his photographic eyes, despite knowing that he no longer felt that way. Was this how divorced men felt as the pondered on the remains of their marriage? Was the love captured in these photographs lost forever? Would he ever look at Hermione with such adoration ever again? He raised his gaze to her again, and felt the knot in his stomach tighten. How could he ever see her beyond being Ron's childhood sweetheart?

"How long have we been married?" Fred asked to cut the silence.

Hermione looked up from her book and stared at him for a moment, almost in disbelief that he actually said something to her for once. She folded the corner of the page she was on, before shutting the book altogether. She placed the book calmly on her lap and regarded him with a gentle smile.

"We celebrated our one year anniversary in September," she explained.

"One year," Fred repeated. Alright, that wasn't too bad. In retrospect, they hadn't been married for very long, so it wasn't as if they had shared many moments together.

"And when did we get together?"

"George and Katie's wedding. I caught the bouquet," she said, her eyes sparkling at the memory. "I never believed in that sort of silly tradition, but I also never thought that you would be proposing one year later."

Fred's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "I didn't waste any time proposing, did I?"

Hermione's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, as if the memory was washing over her mind. "No," she said slowly, a sad smile on her lips. "No, you didn't waste any time at all."

Silence fell upon them. He seemed to have touched a nerve about their marriage, which came as no surprise seeing as he had no recollection of it. He couldn't begin to imagine how Hermione must be feeling. If the situation was reversed, he wasn't sure he could handle being married to someone who didn't remember it. But she seemed to handling it as well as could be expected. Or maybe the lack of communication between them helped make it a less distressing time for her, he couldn't tell which.

Fred's fingers tightened around the gold band briefly before he set it back down on the bedside table. He could feel Hermione's eyes on him, but he didn't want to look at her and explain why he felt the need to pick up the ring, yet not put it on. Instead, he opted for burying his attention into the photo album, trying to deflect any responsiveness Hermione may warrant.

The next photo was of him holding a newborn Dominique. The photograph of him seemed to be amazed at the fact that those little fingers could wrap around one of his long fingers, laughing as the baby looked up at him with guileless blue eyes. It warmed his heart a little, seeing himself so gentle and attentive to a little human. He was just a little disheartened he couldn't recall the moment for real.

A thought ran across his mind that he hadn't considered before.

"Do we have any kids?" Fred asked. He already knew the answer but he'd like to hear it from her to know for sure.

Hermione shook her head. "No. No children."

There was silence again.

"We want children, though," Hermione added as an afterthought. "We just haven't been… lucky."

Fred nodded his head in understanding. He always wanted a family of his own. Having children was something he truly desired. So it did not surprise him that he and Hermione would've been trying to start a family, but he was feeling slightly relieved at their lack of success. Children would make things more complicated than it already was. He had no idea how to be a father at the moment, and having to explain to young children that their father didn't know who they were would've been too big of a challenge for Fred to handle.

He continued to flip through the photos and managed to stop at a photo of himself standing next to a dark-skinned girl, with long glossy black hair.

Angelina.

How he missed her.

He was so thankful to see that she survived the war, and more so, unscathed.

He wanted to request for her to be there, to see her, convince her that things had changed. But he didn't know how to bring it up with Hermione constantly being in the room. He wished that someone would bring her up in conversation, just so he could know how she's doing, whether or not she ever thought of him. But his family seemed to forget that Angelina even existed, and he definitely didn't want to be the first to bring her up.

The two of them were toasting the camera, and she looked exquisite in a lilac coloured dress. How could you say that they weren't in love? That they weren't made for each other? Sure, they had had some problems over the years, but what couple hasn't? They were both determined to make things work, even when the war was threatening to tear them apart. They had made plans together, talked about the future together. How could they have gotten it all terribly wrong?

"Angelina sends her love, by the way."

Fred's head shot up at the mention of her name. Hermione was watching him, clearly expecting this reaction. Fred attempted to play nonchalant, but knew that she had already seen his eagerness. He cleared his throat and tried to sound casual. "What did she say?"

"That she hopes that you get well soon," she confessed with a sigh.

Guilt burned in his chest painfully. So she knew how he felt – or rather, was once again _feeling _– about Angelina. Angelina had been his first real love, and Fred was certain she'd be his last. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what went wrong, where it went wrong. There weren't enough pieces of the puzzle to make sense of it all yet.

"Are Ange and I still… friends?" He hated the way it sounded when he said it out loud. He felt like he was fourteen and asking a friend if the girl he had a crush on, liked him back.

"Yes," Hermione answered. She began to look drained of energy, but complied with answering his questions. "You are still very close."

Fred hummed in response. That was a plus. Their relationship obviously didn't end badly, otherwise they wouldn't have remained close friends. But he wasn't sure if that was a good thing after all. They could've just fallen out of love, mutually agree they weren't right for each other and moved on. But Fred didn't want to think that way, because they were right for each other… right? Either way, if they were on good terms, then he had a chance to win her back, and put things back the way they ought to be.

He looked back at Hermione. He admitted that it was a little harsh to be planning on winning over an apparent ex-lover when you were currently married. Hermione was lovely, and he wouldn't deny that she wasn't pretty, but he didn't feel anything for her – at least, not in the same way he had feelings for Angelina. No, the feelings he had for Hermione were… well, they weren't quite sister-like but they were damn close.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She's doing pretty well. She just made captain of the Kenmare Kestrals, actually. It came as a huge surprise since she's only just been signed over to them last year." Quidditch. Of course she was playing Quidditch. And now she had made captain. That had been a lifelong dream of hers, to be captain of a Quidditch team – well, she strongly desired to be a Holyhead Harpies captain, but she could easily switch teams later. Fred smiled at the thought. At least she was doing what she loved.

"Is she seeing anyone?" Fred cringed as he realised who he was asking this to. He wasn't used to thinking of Hermione in that way, as in someone he couldn't casually ask about other girls. Now it seemed completely out of line, and Fred wasn't sure how to dodge the question he just threw out there.

Hermione seemed to be repressing the strong urge to roll her eyes as she answered, "yes."

It was one word, and it threatened to rip his heart in two. Angelina had moved on. Well, frankly, so did he; but that seemed to matter little to him.

How could she move on? Weren't they crazy in love? Did their relationship mean absolutely nothing to her? How was he meant to win her back if she was tied up in the arms of another man? Maybe she wasn't happy. Maybe she'd thrown herself into the relationship to deal with the grief of him marrying Hermione. Maybe they were meant to be together, and this was just a minor setback to their true love. Anything was possible right?

The thought of Angelina being with someone else, regardless of who it was, set a fire deep in Fred's gut. He'd never one to get jealous. When he dated Alicia briefly in his fifth year, he couldn't have cared less when they broke up and she found solace in the arms of Oliver Wood. And even when he and George left Hogwarts, and he had left Angelina with a school full of hormonal teenage boys, he didn't seem at all fazed by it. He just didn't get jealous, it wasn't in his nature.

Angelina, on the other hand, always was the jealous type. She'd deny it, but Fred was always in trouble when he flirted with the customers in order to boost sales. And Hermione was so… unexpected, he couldn't help but wonder whether or not Angelina held a grudge.

"And… you and Ange…"

Hermione seemed to have predicted the question before he had a chance to finish it. "If you're implying that Angelina has a problem with me, you're mistaken." Hermione nodded towards the photo album in his lap. "She was a bridesmaid, Fred. She still comes around once a month for dinner, just to catch up. She is perfectly fine with our marriage. There aren't any loopholes in this, believe me."

"I'm not looking for a way out, Hermione."

"Yes you are," she rebutted. "Please don't lie to me, Fred. I was there when this happened the first time, I know how you used to feel about Angelina."

"You don't know a damn thing about how I feel," he replied darkly.

Fred looked at Hermione, who once again looked defeated by his words. Tears were already welling in her eyes, but she seemed determined not let them fall. His heart panged with guilt again. He wasn't used to hurting her like this. She never done anything to make him hate her, so he couldn't hold anything against her. He didn't mean to snap, he just felt on edge due to all the sudden change, and her constant presence wasn't helping the situation.

"Hermione, I'm s-"

"Don't worry about it, Fred. It's fine."

He frowned at her tone. "No, I want to ap-"

"Honestly, just let it go. Everything's fine."

Fred's forehead crinkled as he watched Hermione disappear behind her book again. He heard her sniffle quietly behind the cover, and her shoulders trembled a little. Fred sighed as he closed his eyes.

Everything was definitely not fine.

* * *

**A/N: **_Wowie, wow, wow, wow! Look at me go! _

_Okay, I know it took me a while to update this. But to be fair, not long after the last chapter, my life seemed to have rocketed off with my running after it. A promotion at work caused my free time to be reduced significantly, and just now I'm just finding the balance between work and fanfiction. I'm trying hard not to make long delays a habit._

_But I just wanted to take this moment to express how touched and astounded I am at the response I got from this story so far. It's been… a dream really. And that has encouraged me and supported me to continue this to the best of my ability. It's also the reason why I felt the need to write so much this chapter, but don't expect that too much._

_So this chapter was just basically an insight to where five years takes Fred's life. Next chapter will be a tad more interesting. And I've already started on it, so here's hoping for a speedy update._

_Please keep bringing the love, I honestly cherish it. Lots of reviews and love is required for this story, so please supply it._

_Infinite X's and O's,  
Creative Touch  
xxx_


	3. Chapter 3: Always There

**A/N: **_Alright, I have reason to celebrate. _30 reviews_. That's bloody impressive, and I feel so loved. And I would give a big hug to my 30__th__ reviewer… but, it was an anonymous post under the name 'guest'. And all they said was "update". A bit blunt, but I appreciate it nonetheless._

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**SAY SOMETHING**

**CHAPTER THREE:  
ALWAYS THERE**

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"Well, Mr Weasley," Healer May stated with a gentle smile. "It looks like you're good to go home tomorrow. Are you excited?"

Fred stared blankly at the perky healer running diagnostic spells over him for the umpteenth time. He was glad to finally be getting out of the hospital, back into the real world, but 'excited' was not the word to describe how he was feeling. Terrified may have been a better fit. Or perhaps even nervous. Or even, stressed out beyond relief.

Even though he didn't answer her, Healer May continued on with her overly-cheery voice. "And just in time for Christmas as well, you lucky thing! Do you two have any plans?"

Fred merely shrugged. It felt weird to him that Christmas was just around the corner. In his mind, it was still May, still in spring, heading towards a hot and blistering summer. Every morning when he woke, the memory of the battle still lingering constantly in his mind, Fred would be disoriented to wake up in St. Mungo's. It would take a minute for him to remember where he was, and another to remember why. It took the howling of the wind outside his window and the sight of snow to remind him that May was long ago… no, scratch that, 1998 was long ago.

It didn't feel like 2003. It didn't feel like much had changed. It still felt like 1998. Fred surely didn't feel any older than twenty – was there much difference in feeling twenty and feeling twenty-five? Twenty-five did seem a bit old to Fred, and in the Wizarding World, it would be the time when marriages were almost a must – especially in his family. It would be time to consider getting married, settling down, having children, starting a family…

Well, he had the married part right.

But still, he felt twenty. He didn't want to believe he suddenly aged five years, but the evidence was all around him. When the bandage around his head finally came off, and Fred finally got a good look at himself, he discovered that his hair was longer than before – probably to keep in tune with George's. His facial hair was growing faster now than it had before. Fred and George had always thought it would be interesting to grow a beard, but never actually succeeded because it would grow out in ridiculous patches, rather than a generalise cover. Now that wasn't the case. Stubble appeared on his chin before he could even realise what was going on, and Fred realised he could grow a beard if he truly desired – and fast, as well.

His body had changed. He had gotten more muscle, particularly across his chest. There weren't a large of scars scattering across his body that had no knowledge of how they came to be, but one in particular bothered him because it seemed to be particularly nasty. The slightly impressive scar started at his shoulder and had managed to travel halfway across his chest. It wasn't long enough to be seen under any shirt, but staring at it made Fred feel uneasy. Fred spent hours fingering the scar, trying to figure out how the hell that had happened. It was weird to wake up like this, to not recognise his own body, at least not in the shape he had left it in.

"I think we'll just have a quiet Christmas this year," came a soft voice from across the room. Fred quickly glanced in the direction of the voice. Hermione hadn't even looked up from her book, and Fred had to repress a sigh. They had barely said anything to each other since their conversation about Angelina – hell, they barely made eye contact these days. He couldn't help but stare at her when she was the only decent point of focus in the room, but any time she caught him staring, he'd try and pretend that he wasn't looking in her direction. It seemed pathetic, but it was easier than having to face reality.

Fred managed to give Healer May a weak smile of reassurance when the door opened and George bounced in. Fred instantly felt his spirits soar, he was always going to be happy when his twin came in to visit him. George gave him a beaming smile before walking over to greet Hermione, who was sitting in her usual spot, with a kiss on the cheek. Fred frowned at the action. Even though he'd seen his brother do it at least fifty times over the last few weeks, he was never going to get used to his twin greeting her so casually. Yes, they used to joke around with her like that back in Hogwarts, but now it was different, no longer a form of amusement but a form of affection. That still was something to wrap his head around.

"I bet you're keen to leave these four walls," George said with a wide grin. He jumped on the end of the bed, strands of his long hair falling into his eyes. He swept them away and gave Healer May a flirtatious wink, which earned him a giggle, and looked at Fred with a sparkling mischief. "I'm pretty bored with this place myself, I can't imagine what you two are thinking."

Hermione looked up from her book for the first time in hours and shook her head at the one-eared twin. "It's not that bad," she said, speaking more to Healer May than to anybody else.

George snorted. "Nobody likes hospitals that much, 'Mione."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? Fred does."

"I do?" Both George and Hermione slowly turned to look at Fred, who was giving them an expression of curiosity. George had the decency to look sheepish about what he had said, whilst Hermione merely blushed.

George cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Habit, I guess."

That always seemed the case. George and Hermione seemed to have all this insider knowledge about him; stories and inside jokes that Fred couldn't keep up with. As soon as they realised they had spoken out of context, said something they shouldn't have, they'd quickly try and cover it with an apology. That frustrated Fred to no end, he'd rather have them explain the context rather than constantly apologising for things he didn't understand.

Healer May finished up her routine tests on Fred, and gave him a pat on the arm. "Well a quiet Christmas sounds lovely," she added before shuffling out of the room. Fred watched her leave with a profound frown, he liked having healers around. At least they gave him the kindness of explaining things he didn't understand, plus they proved to be a more than adequate distraction from Hermione. He could focus on what they were doing instead of sitting around in maddening silence.

After Healer May left the room, George turned to Fred and plastered on a smile.

"So are you ready to go home tomorrow?" George asked.

"The healers think I am," Fred said. "Nothing more they can do, I think. Though I need to have regular check-ups."

"That's all routine. I think you and I have a permanent spot in their schedules for check-ups."

"More explosions?"

"Amongst other things," George admitted with a toothy grin. "You were in here for almost two whole months when you got attacked by a chimera." What on earth they were doing with a chimera, Fred wasn't even sure he wanted to know. But at least that gave him some explanation to the obvious teeth marks that were scared into his calf muscle.

Hermione groaned, and brought her book back up. "Don't remind me about that. I almost had a heart attack when I got that owl."

"Sorry," George said, and Fred knew he meant it. George had seemed to be acting more sincerely apologetic around Hermione these days. Maybe Fred had been in one too many accidents on George's behalf, or maybe George felt more responsible about Fred's memory loss than he should. Either way, Hermione had been acting like this was nothing new to her.

George unwrapped the scarf around his neck, and shrugged off his thick coat. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, placing both items next to him.

Fred shrugged noncommittally. Physically, he was feeling splendid. His head had finally stopped throbbing, and he no longer had moments where it felt like someone was trying to carve their initials into his skull with an ice pick. Mentally though, he wasn't doing much better. His short-term memory seemed to be fine, his long-term was fine, but still there was that giant chunk of his memories missing. It was gone. Just gone, and Fred was starting to feel like it was never going to return.

"I bet you can't wait to get home. Mum's probably going to cook you a massive dinner to celebrate your safe return."

Fred pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. "Sure."

George tilted his head questioningly at his tone. His eyes narrowed, silently reading his face for a reason. Fred's eyes darted between George and Hermione, and he made a small nod in Hermione's direction. George turned to look over at her, and then back at Fred with a raised eyebrow. Their twin ability to share one mind and read each other's silent looks came into play.

_Hermione? _George's expression asked of him. Fred shrugged and turned away, not wanting to look at the girl in question. George, however, whipped his head around and called her name.

"Hermione, isn't there some discharge papers you have to fill out?"

Hermione's head lifted up from her book. "What are you…?" She saw George's pointed look and understood. "Oh. Yes. Um… I'll go finish them."

Fred turned his head back and blinked in surprise. She had picked up George's hidden question within his tone. He watched Hermione pack up her belongings and leave the room, still pondering on how she and George were able to communicate almost wordlessly. That was their thing, nobody – especially no girl – could even compete on the same level. But he just witnessed Hermione destroy that theory with a moment's glance.

There was a moment's hesitation after Hermione disappeared out of the room before George rounded on him.

"What's wrong?" George asked.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't pull that gobshite with me." George's eyes narrowed at his younger twin. "Do you not want to go home, or something?"

Fred felt like he was a little kid caught in mischief. He exhaled deeply and held out his hands helplessly. "What are we going to talk about? I don't know how to live with her."

"She's your wife, Fred. Not a stray dog."

"Stop calling her that."

"What?"

"My _wife_,_"_ he hissed out the word through gritted teeth.

George rolled his eyes at him. "She _is _your wife, Fred. Whether you like it or not, you're married to her."

"But I don't remember being married to her."

"That has nothing to do with it," George replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Fred's hands clenched into a fist and his expression turned sour. "Hey, calm down now," George added. "You've got to stop being so mad at the situation."

"But I am mad."

"Don't be. She didn't ask for this to happen, so don't go taking it out on her."

Fred ran a hand through his hair. "I feel like I'm being forced into an arranged marriage."

"Look," George sighed, pity filling out across his features. "I get that this is a lot to adjust to, but you're acting like you're not even going to try and make this work with her."

"I don't know if I want to make it work." Fred paused for a moment and looked away from George. "I don't love her, George," he admitted.

He could hear the disappointment in George's voice. "I would hit you if I wasn't so worried about giving you another head injury."

"Why do you care about her so much?" Fred's head snapped back in George's direction. "We've only been married for a year, and you're acting oddly protective of her."

"_Oddly protective_?" George echoed. "Are you… what…? I can't even..." George let out a sound that sounded like a strangled sigh, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fred, I'm going to forgive you for that because you don't remember being married to her. But do you hear yourself? She is your wife, and you are my twin. It doesn't take someone with fifty NEWTs to figure out that I care for her, because you care for her."

"Did," Fred interjected. "Did care for her. Past tense."

George raised an eyebrow. "Just because you don't remember marrying her, you are just going to pretend that she doesn't mean anything? That she's not going to be always in our lives, regardless of whether or not you want her to be? She's more than your wife. She's Ginny's best friend. She's Ron's best friend. She's like a sister to the rest of us. It's not like cupid brought her to you, she was always there, Fred. She's always going to be there."

Fred scrunched up his nose at that fact. George was right, of course. Hermione had been there all along. It wasn't as if she was a complete stranger to him, she was Hermione Granger. They went to the same school. They spent summers together. They had fought together – hell, she was even there when that wall crushed him. The more he thought about it, the more he realised it was almost to separate his life from Hermione's. Somehow, she was always there.

But still, that didn't change the way Fred felt. He just didn't see her in that way. Just because she had been a strange, constant presence in his life didn't mean that he had to end up with her. She was just as equally involved in George's life, so why him instead of George? Fred could've laughed at that thought. Hermione and George. It wasn't right. Not to say that he and Hermione was any better, but she just didn't seem to fit being in a relationship with either one of them.

She may have always been there, but so had Angelina – in fact, Angelina had been there longer. He could still remember seeing Angelina for the first time, on the train on the way to Hogwarts for the first time at age eleven. She was nervous about the sorting, and he and George made it their business to make her even more unsettled by telling her that if she couldn't be sorted, the Sorting Hat would eat her. Needless to say, she didn't speak to them again until Christmas. It wasn't until they joined the Gryffindor Quidditch Team the following year that they began their friendship. Throughout their years together at Hogwarts, they had their ups and downs as most friends do, but it wasn't until he had broken up with Alicia that he realised that he was crushing on her.

He couldn't stop feeling this way. Regardless of the fact he was now married, regardless of the fact that he was told that Angelina had moved on, regardless of the fact that their relationship had, apparently, ended years ago; and regardless of who had always been there… he was hopelessly in love with Angelina – not Hermione.

Fred snapped out of his musings and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "What does she expect to happen with me coming home? What good can come of that?"

"Your memories, Fred. Your memories. The idea is that it will help trigger your memories."

"George, we have barely spoken since I woke up. And now we're going to be cooped up in a house without saying anything?

"Have you _tried _talking to her? Fred, this is as hard on her as it is for you."

"I don't want to talk to her. It's… it's…"

"Go on," George urged, raising an eyebrow.

"Daunting." George barked out a laugh and Fred cringed at his choice of word. "I don't know. It's… overwhelming."

"Aww, is Freddie scared of his wife?" George's grin reached his eyes, and Fred wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face.

Fred crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "I'm not _scared_ of her. I'm just saying that I'm not comfortable with talking to her, especially with all this going on."

George's grin faded. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier?"

"What was I meant to say? I don't want to talk to her because I don't know what to say? That I don't even know how to talk to her?"

George snorted. "Just turn on the good old Weasley twin charm, and you're set to go."

Fred pushed back his hair with both hands. "Wouldn't it be easier on everyone if I just stayed somewhere else? Can't I just stay at the loft? Or with you?"

"You can't be in the loft by yourself right now. You're still recovering. And as much as I would enjoy living with you again…" George quickly glanced at the door and turned back to his twin. "Hermione needs you home. You need to be home with her. You need to at least try."

"You sound like the therapist."

George's eyebrows shot up. "You're seeing a therapist?"

"It's part of my recovery," Fred scoffed. "Apparently severe memory loss requires counselling."

George hummed in response. "Yeah, I can see how that would work."

"But all they want to talk about is Hermione," Fred told him, slumping his shoulders.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Fred said slowly. "Except they want me to try and talk to her. 'Get familiar with her', they said. Have an actual conversation with her or something."

George watched Fred slump his shoulders a little more. "Then do it," George urged. "Have a conversation with her. What's the worst that can happen?"

"I could say something that could hurt her," Fred mumbled, feeling the wave of guilt wash over him as he recalled his last proper conversation with her. "Besides, what do I even talk to her about? I don't even know any of her interests, or hobbies or..."

George threw back his head and laughed. Fred shot him a glare. George shook his head at him, giving him an amused expression. "It's Hermione. You know her. We've known her since she was eleven. What don't we already know about her?"

George had a point. What didn't he already know about her? She'd had spent almost every summer at the Burrow since her third year, and every Christmas since her second. He'd spent years at Hogwarts being around her presence, having been scolded by her, lectured by her, and even punished by her. If he thought hard enough, he could probably figure out what to talk about.

What did he know about her interests? She liked reading… books… studying… exams… rules…

Fred frowned. Hermione Granger sure wasn't boring, but she sounded boring on paper. How did someone like him end up with someone like her? They couldn't be more different. Well, that was some encouragement. She was almost like a female version of Percy. Fred shuddered at the thought – now there was an image he didn't need.

What he didn't know was how she was in a romantic aspect. She never seemed to be interested in anyone other than Ron and Krum, and even then, her relationship between either one seemed complicated. Fred could see that nothing had changed on that page – Hermione Granger and her series of complicated romantic relationships. First Krum, then Ron and now Fred. She surely had some serious bad luck when it came to love.

But how would she take it now that he was going home? Would it be as awkward as he anticipated? Or worse? Would she expect them to strike up a romance? Did she expect him to be more than just a mental care patient? Was she expecting him to take up his husbandly duties? Would she want him to kiss her? Kissing her was definitely not something he wanted to do. It seemed too strange, too uncomfortable. Before this moment, kissing Hermione Granger was something he never thought of doing.

George put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Hermione's good people, Fred. Sooner or later, you're going to remember that about her."

"I suppose it can't be that bad," Fred admitted, feeling oddly defeated.

"Good, because I already asked Katie, and she's already said no to you staying." Fred shot him a dirty glare, and George spread out his hands helplessly. "She and Hermione are quite close actually. Strange, isn't it?"

"You can say that again."

The Hermione he could recall from Hogwarts years only had friendships amongst a select few that had banded together to create Dumbledore's Army, with his youngest siblings and Harry Potter being the closest of them all. But all of them had been around her age group and year, definitely not within his. First Angelina, now Katie as well? Fred was in disbelief that they would've had anything to talk about, given Hermione's lack of Quidditch know how, and her disinterest in most feminine topics.

George gave him a sympathetic smile. "Is there anything I can do to convince you that it's not going to be a total disaster?"

"No," Fred replied glumly. "It _will _be a disaster."

"That's some positive thinking you've got there. Have they increased your dose of petty whining recently?" A pillow sailed passed George's head, missing him by an inch, and George gave Fred a grin. "Your aim hasn't gotten any better either. What have they done to you?" Another pillow was tossed, this time hitting its target. Fred laughed at the mock-angry expression George gave him.

"This means war," George declared, clenching the pillow in his fist and using it to swipe at his brother. "En garde!" Fred scrambled backwards, a grin lifting his lips as he searched for another pillow. George swung at him again and missed. Fred ducked and aimed for George's head, laughing when he connected. George was laughing too, taking another go at his brother, only for Fred to intercept it with his own pillow. This continued until George finally was able to disarm Fred and repeatedly attack him with the pillow in his hand, and Fred held up his hands in surrender, both of them unable to stop laughing.

Once their laughter died down and they caught their breaths, George tossed his pillow to the floor, and raised his blue eyes to meet Fred's.

"Look," George stated before closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. "I am only a floo away, alright? If you feel really uncomfortable about it, I'll let you move back into the loft - _Only_ if you are uncomfortable." He gave Fred a hard glare. "But you need to live with her for at least two weeks. Just test the waters. I assure you it's not that bad."

Two weeks. That was reasonable enough. A fortnight could fly by in no time at all. And even if it turned out it wasn't that bad, he could still go to the loft afterwards – George wouldn't have to know every detail of what happens.

"Fine. Two weeks," Fred said begrudgingly.

"Good," George smiled. He hopped off the bed and stretched his arms above his head. "Now we've got that sorted, I'm starved. Are you hungry?" Fred shook his head. "Fine, be that way. Don't come crying to me when I've got a juicy turkey sandwich and you have sawdust."

Fred rolled his eyes as George headed towards the door. Just as he reached it, George's hand lingered on the doorknob for a second, and he turned back to his twin.

"Just… be nice to her, alright?" Fred blinked in surprise, and tilted his head questioningly. George let out a sigh as he compressed his lips into a hard line. "Trust me on this one. Just… be nice."

And with that, George left Fred feeling utterly confused, and strangely, a little guilty.

* * *

**A/N: **_Wow… you guys like it. You really, really like it. _

_Honestly, the feedback has been overwhelmingly good. I can't tell you guys how much I love each and every one of you for reading, alerting, favouriting, and reviewing this. I mean, more than ten reviews per chapter? That's practically a dream come true. _

_I honestly had no idea what people would think about this story when I first came up with the idea, but I'm thrilled to see that it has been received very well. _

_But unfortunately, dark clouds have formed above my head and things are down pouring. Have you guys ever heard of anyone who got a promotion and then fired in the same month? Yeah, that seriously is what just happened to me. I'm a walking example that it just takes one customer to ruin… well, practically _everything. _I'm hurt and shocked that the outcome from a single customer complaint cost me my job, but I guess that's life. _

_But I guess in between looking for a new job and just doing everything I haven't been able to do in the last month (exercising, cleaning, reading and working on fashion trends), I'll be able to punch out as much as I can – I mean, what else can I do? I'm sure none of you wish for this to last for long, because that'll mean my unemployment has stuck, so I'm hoping you guys are cheering me on from your ends of the world and sending me all the love and positive thoughts I need to get me through this rough time. _

_Next chapter we'll be seeing Fred coming home. That means Hermione and Fred sharing a house… with no one else around. No distraction of hospitals, or healers, or even George. Should make for an interesting chapter – and yes, a little bit more insight into how Fred and Hermione came to be. _

_So can we keep the love coming? I would love, love, LOVE to make it to 50 reviews. Thanks to all those who do read and review, I do all this for you guys. _

_Infinite X's and O's,  
Creative Touch  
xxx_

_P.S. If you guys care, I have a Facebook page dedicated to communicating with my readers. You can follow updates, get involved with my writer blocks, nudge me when I'm being slow, etc. The link is on my profile for all those who'd like to share this journey with me._


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